


Borrowed Time

by Crollalanza



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 10:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4743548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Going out on a high. </p><p>Gina Paulklee couldn’t say the idea had never occurred to her. Some days when she woke, her limbs aching, muscles stretched and tender, she contemplated the thought of letting it all go. Of just waiting for the next chancer to take her on, letting him (or her) do their worst. Surrendering to the inevitable.</p><p>But Ginger won't let that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Borrowed Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a minor spoiler from chapter 25 regarding the relationship between Gina and Ginger.

The plume of smoke slipped lazily through her lips as she waited. Slouched against the wall, huddled into her khaki jacket, her stance spoke of nonchalance. A close observer would have noticed the closed eyes as she inhaled on her cigarette. A further glance would have assured them that the head of the Paulklee Guild, currently scuffing her heel on the pavement, was at ease in her domain.  And they might have assumed that the time was ripe to take her out. Shutting her eyes meant she was unaware for a moment, foolishly letting down her guard, right? That this Twilight was too old and had dodged death too many times, so maybe now was the time of reckoning.

But a closer observer, one not acting on chance, would have seen the tautness of her shoulders and the flexed muscle in the forearm as she dragged on her cigarette, the strength and readiness apparent to any trained assassin.  And they’d know this was not the time.

For 0 Street was her territory, her kingdom and her reign was supreme. There was no one could touch her, no one would dare.

Inhaling sharply, she opened her eyes, casting furtive eyes down the side street. No one was there, but the scent was unmistakeable.  And feeling the knot in the hunch of her back ease, she threw the cigarette to the floor, twisting it into the pavement with the sole of her boot, before escaping up the stairs to her office.

“Paulklee-san!” called the man, a short while later. His voice was respectful, but casual. She ignored him.

“S-Sir!” another voice. One that made Gina reach for another cigarette.

“Office,” she summoned, then took up her usual position, reclining in her chair feet on the desk.

“Any trouble?” She flicked a glance at the Handyman.

“Nothing that Nic couldn’t sort out,” he muttered.

“That true, Ginger?”

She nodded. “B-Benriya cleared up the mess,” she replied.

She refrained from raising her eyebrows at Ginger’s choice of words. By mess she meant the rogue Twilight, who’d run amok.

“Dead?”

“Yep,” Worick qualified.  He shrugged. “Couldn’t be helped. It was like he committed suicide, a D tag like him.”

“Chad-san know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You recognise him, Worick?” she asked.

He shook his head slowly. “Not seen him before. Reckon he was a drifter. Tags were tarnished. Nothin’ special.” He paused, then patted his pocket pulling out his own packet of cigarette, screwing it up when he saw it was empty.  He stared at Gina, a crooked smile on his lips. She glared back, but with a sigh, nudged her own pack towards him with her foot.

As he helped himself, she switched her focus to Ginger. “How about you?”

“He w-wasn’t one of ours,” she muttered, and for the first time, Gina noticed she was holding her arm. “D-Dr Theo reckons he’d taken a b-bad batch -.”

She cut through Ginger’s stammering. “You hurt?”

“It’s nothing. A nick with a knife, that’s all.”

“Go get it dressed,” Gina ordered peremptorily.

She obeyed. She always obeyed without question, her loyalty unswerving. Gina watched her leave, boots clumping on the floor, and the top of her shirt uneven across her right shoulder.

“Can I go, too?” Worick asked, not even bothering to smother a yawn.  “Only I got a client and she worries some-”

“Not yet,” she rapped, and swinging her legs off the desk, she gestured for him to sit. “Ginger’s not going to tell me if she’s hurt bad, so ...”

He shrugged and took a long drag on his cigarette, unintentionally letting her suffer as he held her gaze through his sleepy eyes. And sometimes she wondered just how much he knew because Worick was a perceptive guy, his instincts honed by the razor sharp memory and the thirst for survival. He could spot a weakness a mile away, but she was lucky that he’d only exploit it if he had to.

That and she knew he was fond of Ginger.

“She’s fine,” he murmured. “It was just a nick and she’s had far worse.”

“And the Twilight?”

He blinked a little at the change of subject, but it could hardly have been a surprise. “Chad-san’s taking care of it. We don’t think he was acting for anyone, just a man at the end of his tether, maybe thinking he could go out on a high.”

“Old, huh?”

“Over thirty.”

Gina nodded. “You can go now.”

“Sure.” He got to his feet, not the slightest bit offended at his dismissal, but before he left, he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out what looked like a stub of dirty paper and dropped it on the desk in front of her.

“What are you littering my desk with now?” she asked, then frowned when she saw it was a crushed cigarette, the filter stained red.

“Found it outside on the pavement,” he muttered. “Still warm.”

She held his gaze, seeing the knowledge flicker within. But no judgement, and no pity. He knew better than that. “Send me your account,” she said, and with a wave, she dismissed him just as he’d got to the door.

“How’s that girl of yours? Alex, is it?”

“Al-chan’s fine,” he countered. “Not mine, though.”

“Losing your touch,” she jeered.

He cracked her a smile, then left not bothering to close the door behind him, and she was alone with only the light of her cigarette and the rattle of the vial of celebre in her top pocket.

_Going out on a high._

She couldn’t say the idea had never occurred to her. Some days when she woke, her limbs aching, muscles stretched and tender, she contemplated the thought of letting it all go. Of just waiting for the next chancer to take her on, letting him (or her) do their worst. Surrendering to the inevitable.

Because on some days she felt as if she was just prolonging her fate, some days when she woke and screwed her eyes up against the sunshine, she waited for the black to subsume her.

“Hey.” Ginger’s voice caught her mid-contemplation, and hurriedly fixing a grimace on her face, she beckoned to her to come in.

“You fixed up?”

Nodding, Ginger sat in the chair recently vacated by Worick, but instead of sprawling back as he’d done, she perched on the edge, her knees stuck together while her feet splayed out.

“It really was nothing,” she muttered. “Barely a scratch.”

Gina’s eyes narrowed speculatively. “Not like you, Ginger. And he was D rank, from what Worick said.”

She laughed, a little shamefaced. “I was dodging Benriya-san. He had the kill and caught me on the arm.”

“Nic caught you?”

“Yeah... it’s nothing, I promise,” she soothed.

“Worick reckons the guy was trying to make an impression.” She paused, and inhaled another lungful of smoke. “But he didn’t say what sort.”

She didn’t imagine the twitch on Ginger’s lips or the way her glasses moved as she widened her eyes.

“One of you has to tell me.”

“He had a list,” Ginger murmured. “People he wanted to take down. And ... uh ... you were on it.”

“Top?”

She shook her head, relieved it seemed, and something fluttered inside of Gina in the vague area of her heart. “Monroe was top.”

“Dammit all, that guy beats me every time,” she joked. And then she frowned, not angry but puzzled. “Why’d a Twilight want to take me out?”

“M-Maybe he wasn’t in his right mind,” Ginger stammered. Her hands were back in her lap, pleating at the hem of her shirt, and then her eyes flickered out of the window before returning to Gina. “He wouldn’t have succeeded. I w-wouldn’t have let him.”

“Gunslinger will be pleased you have his back,” she replied.

Ginger leant across the desk, and now all nervousness was gone, her voice sincere, direct, terrifyingly intense. “I wasn’t thinking of Monroe-san.”

Gina held her gaze and waited for her to flinch. “Worick said the guy was over thirty.”

But she didn’t blink. “Possibly.” She sounded unhappy. Hell, maybe she even was unhappy. She had just seen someone die, after all.

“Coming to the end of his time,” Gina persisted.

“Stop that,” Ginger reproved. “You can’t think that way.”

“ _Borrowed_ time, Ginger,” she murmured. “We both know that.”

“I don’t know anything,” Ginger whispered. “Except...” She sighed, ran her fingers through her hair letting it spill over her bare shoulders, then rubbed at the bridge of her nose, causing her glasses to sit a touch haphazardly.  

Leaning over the desk, Gina touched her on the cheek. “Except what?” she asked.

“Except that I’d be _nothing_ without you,” she replied stubbornly.

She laughed aloud at the preposterousness. “There’s no one can take you down. Not even that Benriya cranked up on celebre.”

“Without you I’d have been hired out to do another’s bidding,” Ginger continued. “Unable to say no. That’s what I’d call nothing, especially for a woman. No better than a D rank forced to make a living as a whore.”

In one fluid movement, she left her chair, swinging her legs across the desk to look down at Gina. “You saved me,” she insisted, and bent down to plant a kiss firmly on Gina’s lips, her hands gripping the older woman’s shoulders. “And I’m not letting you give up on any of this.”

Reaching up , Gina dragged Ginger off the desk so she sat astride her. She found her mouth, claiming it with her own, the kiss searching, intense, needed. Her fingers tangled in her hair as she pulled her closer, and then she inhaled, revelling in the scent of sweat and blood and a nervous, feral excitement.

“You’re not to give up,” Ginger repeated, sounding fierce. “Ergastulum needs you. _I_ need you.”

“I’m still on borrowed time, Ginger,” she murmured, staring into her eyes as their foreheads touched. “You _have_ to face that.”

But Ginger smiled. “We both are, Gina-san, but it’s better than no time at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> My first Gangsta fanfiction, so I hope you enjoyed. The manga's consumed me.


End file.
